


Providentia

by 4thQuarter (SHJ)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cold War, Drama, Gen, Gun Violence, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Other, Political Alliances, Spies & Secret Agents, Spy!Byleth, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28709277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHJ/pseuds/4thQuarter
Summary: The Intelligence Service has always worked in the shadows to keep the world in peace, by any means. But blood spilled from an Adrestrian bullet now threatens the delicate bleeding edge of peace between the dominant superpowers of the world. Without warning, tensions rest within the iron grip of uncertainty, and the clock strikes thirty seconds to midnight. Time is running dangerously thin. An impossible task awaits her employers, but by providence and a stroke of horrible luck, Byleth Eisner and her allies must rise to the occasion - or all life will never see the light of day again.
Kudos: 1





	Providentia

**| 46.8876° N, 9.6570° E |**

* * *

"Initiate."

Byleth Eisner's eyes drifted open, slowly coming to a voice that assaulted her ears. Her body sat upright in her seat, and the beginnings of a rhythmic ache blossomed piercingly surreptitiously in her shoulder. The world seemed to move forward, and her stomach seemed to float deliriously in its cage.

It was cold, and she was alone. 

She tried to move a hand to address the pain, but it was pulled taut. Her wrists were locked to the seat by a built-in restraint that kept movement perfectly still. They burned, ached to the touch and were as sharp as the howling wind roaring outside, battering the windows and pulling at the particles of snow stuck to the edges of the glass. Her spine hurt, and her lids were heavy, but now was no time to dwell on how she felt. How burdened with the situation's reality, how exposed and irritable she was, did not matter. 

"You've arrived."

There was a muted orchestra of deafening noises - of a steadfast mechanical engine, shuffling blades and the faintest static pouring in from the headset strapped to her ears.

"Prepare to disembark."

Pneumatic hissing immediately loosened the shackles binding her wrists. A red light began to flash in monotone intervals, turning green. With the change of colour, her hands were freed. Slowly, she began to massage numb fingers. She could feel herself slowly descending, coming closer to worn black concrete, frozen metal mesh and fading white paint, as she glanced out the window. The motor began to slowly crawl to a halt. 

"The doors will open to your left."

A dull thud shook the frame of her gilded metal cage, and the door closest to her effortlessly slid open. Immediately, she was blasted with vapid, freezing air that shook her none too gently. Breathing it in caused her to cough violently against a closed fist. 

"U-Understood..." Byleth gasped, eyes winced. A beat of silence followed so she replied again. "Understood."

"Remove your headset and exit the vehicle. Follow the lights inside."

"Thanks," she grumbled underneath her breath, conceding to the calls. "Will do."

Her hands slid to her ears, and a quick pull caused the headset to fall over and tumble against metal. Rotor blades kicked up a furious storm against the concrete and metal railings, rustling through the hood of her jacket with an omnipresent, maddening chill. With tentative steps, she eased herself off of the aircraft and took hold of her surroundings. 

_It's cold._

The helipad had emerged near the bottom of a vast range of stone. Dark grey rock flanked her left and right, snowy peaks and footfalls the view of the five-star suite. She was in a mountain range - one that dominated all view in sight with towering mass and ice. A valley below was partially obscured by a potent mist. By virtue of her biological clock and the look of the sky, which was about as cold, dry and grey as could possibly be - the sun was still beginning to stretch across the horizon.

As quickly as it touched the helipad, the jet-black Blackhawk helicopter began to hover in the air and drift away, the initials of the craft's serial number drifting out of focus with each passing second.

Ahead of her was a monolith of solid concrete that stood at least sixty metres in height, unaffected by winds pushing and pulling at her body. Painted in fading white paint was the number three - emboldened on the cracking material. There was a short metal staircase from the helipad to the structure. Concrete in certain areas was cracked, with exposed rebar and yellow caution tape posing as the least-effective barriers to a tragic demise inviting her inside. With nothing else to do, she walked toward the belly of the beast.

Lights suspended on the structure's ceiling turned on sequentially as she stepped forward, intensely blinding in nature as she naturally shied her face away. They illuminated snow particulate haplessly drifting through the howling air. A pair of metal doors ceremoniously opened as she entered the shadow of the tower, in similar pneumatic hissing and moving machinery.

In their wake stood a figure standing in front of a dark hallway - a woman slightly older than her, she deduced - as she walked closer. Straight-backed with squared shoulders and a straight jaw. Her somewhat-unkempt hair was blond, sides short at the base of the neck. She was dressed in a sharp, dark beige trenchcoat, lining perfectly with a light-grey turtleneck sweater and black boots underneath that fit flawlessly. A pin on her lapel adorned the trenchcoat with a silver origami bird, and a simple silver necklace completed the look strategically. With a smile, the woman with icy-blue eyes walked forward to meet her with her hands clasped behind her back.

"Majestic, isn't it?"

To her credit, Byleth kept as straight as face as she could. The facility was obviously in a state of odd disrepair, and the blistering cold worked effectively to abate any sense of wonder of the mountain ranges she might've had. Besides, she knew what was in store. 

She nodded in response. "It's easy on the eyes, ma'am."

The woman snorted, seemingly amused. Whether it was performance or genuine was unknown. Appearances were all but appearances and could often be deceptive. In unknown waters, everything was a mystery. 

"Hmm. Walk with me."

Byleth's head began to clear from the howling wind, and she immediately registered the blessed warmth that exuded from the hallway - something almost intoxicating in nature. She masked a sigh of relief as natural breathing as a pair of footsteps echoed in the corridor - now detached from the wrath of nature outside. As the woman led the way, with Byleth just behind, her eyes flit to the metal railings, pipes and concrete that composed the hall. Everything was still noticeably gray, with traces of blood-iron rust on the piping running across the hall. However, it was in much better condition than the outside. The walls of the hallway were very tall, supported by large iron bars running from the floor to an invisible height. Walkways of metal grates ran across the width of the corridor.

"How was your flight?" 

Byleth was drawn from observation to the conversation. The woman's head was kept forward as she walked, not turning or tilting to address her. Perhaps this was the beginning of her initiation, or maybe it was not. Either way, she would answer as truthfully as she could, with a beat of silence to think carefully about her answer. Nothing would be offhand.

"Acceptable," Byleth replied, massaging her wrists. "There were no problems."

"I do apologize for the handcuffs. It's standard protocol for Initiate candidates. I hope you understand. We do look after our own."

In her mind, Byleth drew up a scenario and lingered on the possibilities. A rabid passenger bringing down two pilots. Millions in damages. An impressive feat, all things considered. Shoving thoughts aside, she replied.

"Keeping secrets?"

The woman hummed. "Handling secrets are the stock and trade of our business, Initiate. Everyone has secrets that they keep close to their chest. I'm sure you have a few of your own. I've read your case file. Very interesting. PMC for SCARAB, fast-tracked through your skill and your network connections. Impressive work, how you rose through the ranks so quickly. An excellent tactical thinker that keeps her comrades alive. Half by the book, and half hardly textbook, but nevertheless effective. I suppose field-work hardly ever is." 

Her tone was terse now. Utilitarian and contemplative, with not a hint of airy happiness or companionship. Byleth swallowed but kept her face as neutral as possible, keeping her back straight with the discipline of an indoctrinated officer. For all she knew, hidden in the darkness of the ceiling could be observers. Security cameras. Onlookers. Sharks yearning for a drop of blood in an infinite ocean. Best not to show any sign of weakness. 

"If you were wondering, I am a handler, Initiate. We work closely with agents active in the field. Are you familiar with the phrase, 'know your enemy,' Initiate?"

Byleth replied after a beat, catching on to the woman's line of thought. "Knowing your enemy is only half the battle, ma'am."

"Correct. In turn, it is our job to understand the mind of our agents intimately. You must know yourself. When you do that, you begin to see possibility where others see only limitation. It's all a work in progress, and we're working on it."

They continued walking, and Byleth noticed a figure from one of the walkways above enter the hallway to peer above, judging her as if she were a prisoner in a maximum-security correctional facility. Their facial features were obscured and hidden from view. It was, to Byleth, a measure of intimidation, the beginnings of introductory hazing. Her eyes settled on the figure above. Now, it was leaning on the rail and watching her with vague interest - hawk-like eyes as she passed below the walkway.

"You're unique, or so do the case-handlers say," the woman said. "But being unique at the end of the day doesn't give you much worth. It isn't why you were brought here. Every Initiate is carefully selected from a large pool of candidates, and each candidate is unique. You are all weighed for your merits and faults. Your burning loyalties and fervour, quick-thinking and wit. Your fidelity, your bravery, your integrity and your worth of service. Those traits aren't unique among us. They're required. Are you aware of that?" 

The question punctured at the end was accompanied by the woman's ice-cold eyes boring into Byleth's own. The line of questioning had purposely drilled into the 'human side' of the business, avoiding nationalism and patriotism - a sign of perhaps what would become of her. Regardless, the answer was an instinctive one, and one that in recent times, was naturally drilled in her heart. 

"I am aware. _Servitude Seeks the Best_ , after all." The motto of the organization whose halls she walked in. It was as idealistic an answer as ever, but one she had prepared for moments such as these - for the organization she would bleed for. 

_Die for._

The woman stopped in her tracks, prompting Byleth to do the same. She inclined her head.

"Of course servitude does. But not everyone is without blemish. There is no perfect candidate, only the idea of an exemplary one. Everyone has faults that prevent them from executing their duties to perfection. These flaws may go unchecked during the preliminary examinations but make no mistake, Initiate - they're unveiled here. If there is something more about you, it will be found. Deficiency and weakness of the mind are not tolerated. Not with everything on the line." 

Byleth nodded. "Understood."

Finally, all their walking had lead to a closed metal door at the end of the hall, and the two of them ground to a halt. The woman gestured with her hand, finally unclasping them from her back to beckon her inside. "Your testing begins at 0900 hours. Enter the room and put on the mask. Someone will come to retrieve you when you're finished."

Byleth nodded and motioned towards the door. A hand stopped her, settling against her arm and pulling her back. Her heart skipping a beat, she turned to face the woman.

"Ma'am?"

"There are no second chances in the field. Likewise, there are no second chances if you fail. They chose you for a reason. Prove that you're worth the effort."

With a nod and a drying voice, she replied. 

"I will. Thank you."

The woman clipped back. "Don't thank me yet, Initiate." She turned away, walking down the hall in the same direction they came. "You've done nothing." 

Byleth took a deep breath and straightened her back once more, feigning confidence with the action. The door, like all others in this place - opened pneumatically. The whine of the hissing air left Byleth wondering of escape plans should the facility's power source shut down.

_Starving here would be a horrible way to go._

Astringent thoughts aside, Byleth stepped inside. The room was... well, it was rather spartan. There was a table and two chairs, and a unique looking device the woman mentioned sat centred on the hardwood. Upon closer examination, the walls - a hazy white buzzed with faint and opaque red, blues and greens - were comprised of screens. With no hesitation, Byleth took the seat closest to her and pulled the device to her face, brushing loose hair out of the way.

This was it. 

In but a few moments, the course of her entire life would change.

The road to retribution would draw closer than ever.

* * *

_"Director. You're making a mistake."_

**_"What makes you think that?"_ **

_"Why... why this one? I can think of a dozen others better suited for the task. Our in from the Faerghus Federation. The girl from the United Adrestrian States, and the product of the Leicester recruitment drive. They all have more status, training. They're more qualified, more ambitious. They're great fits for the position. Sure, the age gap is a present factor... but do you-"_

**_"The background checks came in clean, yes?"_ **

_"Y-Yes, sir. The sanctions passed the board. There's no doubt the candidate shows promise, but..."_

**_"It's as you said. We see possibility where others see limitation."_ **

_"Excellent combat scores alone don't complete the profile, Director. The Hanneman test results speak for themselves. There are signs - indifference to common social norms at times. Stoic. Cookie-cutter. At times, unresponsive to confirmations. We've run the numbers and the probability."_

**_"Hmm. Did the Initiate feel like that to you?"_ **

_"Well... the test results weren't reflected, to my understanding. But the results of the test rarely ever lie. The traits identified are buried within. There is much field guidance to be administered for the candidate. They're raw. I just don't see it being effective, sir. The numbers..."_

**_"Look at the numbers alone, and half the picture is missing. Is_** **_that not what a Handler does? Connect the dots, be the eyes and ears of their charge when they need it? In our trade, one cannot lack pragmatism. Sole ambition is a driving force that limits the peripheral. Those driven by ambition alone lose the ability to be visionaries. In pursuit of success, complacency is bred. From complacency, ambition is amplified, and sloth is glorified."_ **

_"I don't... I don't follow, sir."_

**_"Look at where we find ourselves. Opposing voices are beginning to sound. The fundamental differences in the governance of the world's top nations are bound to cause rifts -_** _**nonetheless held together by mutual interests that will not last. They will fade, and will be supplied by vapid, dull excuses of nationalism and patriotism if it is not identified, caught – and stopped dead in its tracks. Unity will cease to exist. The threat humanity faces rises in severity each passing day. Action must be taken."** _

_"I understand, sir. Concerning the candidate, however..."_

**_"The Initiate lacks the bindings to country that keeps the others at bay. This makes for the ideal candidate, the best chance of success attainable in a generation. Out of many, this one holds the most promise."_ **

_"A blank slate?"_

**_"No. But a mouldable one."_ **

* * *

Byleth sat deathly still.

Her arms were placed square on the desk. Eyes remained unflinching, focused forward, looking into a screen.

In the other chair, her interrogator sat cross-legged, with his elbows on the armrests of the chair - hands steepled together.

The LEDs on the walls flickered. 

Green.

Blue.

Red.

Then, the room was devoid of light for the briefest of moments. In a flash, the walls were replaced with windows. A night sky, with water raining down on the panes of glass. Neon lights, tall skyscrapers cutting a domineering visage. Flashing colours against a world of cold metal and concrete to the left, a dark abyss of an ocean to the right.

This was Enbarr. Capital of the United Adrestrian States.

The sound of raindrops filtered through the room, and all of a sudden - Byleth found herself transported to a highrise complex far off in the world. This was a sight so completely unexpected. It caught her that caught her off guard. For the briefest moment, she flicked her eyes to the walls...

"Initiate."

The man spoke, and Byleth's vision snapped back to reality. Immediately, she noticed that the desk had almost tripled in size, and had changed entirely. Now, it was no longer a boring rectangle - but a laminated, dark-grey teardrop; the largest part of it faced towards her. At the apex, the man was seated. He was dark-skinned, and his voice was thick with gravel - accented yet practiced all the same. Underneath the change of light, the finer details of his face were obstructed. 

"Why are you here?"

So open-ended, with hundreds of possible answers. Each candidate addressed in this room would answer differently, and nothing would be the same. Whatever the reasons, - money, power, advancement, wealth - only a few would satisfy the Board.

"You've taken an interest in us before," the man continued, gesturing to a jet-black file folder on the table. "Applications after secondary-school. Adequate proficiency in weapons training. Hints of anti-normative characteristics. A deviation of the standard, although that is to be expected. Your father has worked for many in the intelligence community. A plausible explanation, but I want more."

He leaned in, the whites of his eyes accenting a powerful, piercing gaze.

"So, why are you here _?_ " For a split second, his voice wavered, hologram bleeding blue. In a mere moment, the facade returned.

"Answer me."

Now was her cue to respond. Byleth was never someone considered 'good' with people - her stoic nature and time spent moving constantly had worked wonders for that. But, she knew that most often, a diplomatic answer satisfied others. Usually kept contentment on their faces. It wasn't a poor idea to try once again.

"My father approached me with a career offer, before he passed, sir. An opening that would make it easier to leave my mark on this world." Byleth finally started, hoping her nervousness wasn't as prominent as it felt, watching as the man inclined his head - all ears. "Be a key part in contributing positively to society in such troubling times. I believe that by... offering my services to the greater good, I can fight the sickness. Not the symptom."

When the man sat unreactive, Byleth almost faltered.

"When..."

Cold, hard eyes stared back. After what seemed like an eternity, the man uncrossed his legs and leaned back in his seat, not breaking eye contact. Byleth held his unrelenting gaze. 

The command was silent, and the answer was obvious.

_Continue._

"When I was in school, I took a second-year elective. Statistics. We worked to collect and analyze data in various fields, to reduce uncertainty and provide for its assessment via probability testing. Several topics. We covered the effectiveness of vaccines, or the probability of falling in love or winning the lottery. How one turn of events would shape the world we know it if certain criteria are met."

Byleth paused for a moment, focusing on her point and collecting her thoughts for her answer's final push.

"But what stuck with me, along with the teachings of the course, was the overwhelming constant of time. To my understanding, it was the one self-evident driving force constant in the field. The probability of time constantly moving forward as a unit of measurement never changed. Sir, it doesn't take a blind person to see that... we're running out of time."

Byleth swallowed, but kept her vision straight. It was time to drive home her point.

"During the Great Tension, the models and numbers they showed us, the inclination of crossing that threshold of nuclear war... it's staggeringly high. The chances were greater than 90%."

She grimaced, voice growing softer. 

"Which is to say, sir, that if the Intelligence Service hadn't been formed, there is a very good chance that neither of us would be here having this conversation."

She gestured to the darkened skyline, hidden behind windows slick with water and blinding city lights driving back the night behind them. With this, she would stick to the larger human focus, building on the foundation she had laid - a masterclass clinic in interview ass-kissing. A high probability of success.

"What humanity has managed to accomplish in spite of their atrocities is nothing short of impressive. Say what you want about the accomplishments of each nation and their integrity, but without the Service's intervention and... timely guidance, I doubt it would have happened the way it did. And they're not perfect, either. But the Service has learned from its failures, and it has become the stabilizing force to the world and its affairs. It's why it _has_ to endure. I want to partake in that mission, sir."

_I want to find out why._

The man gave back a single nod. "Hmm. Your honesty is refreshing. An unusual, idealistic perspective. But you've clearly thought hard about your response. And you're mature enough to know that."

The man leaned in, and the world darkened further. Raindrops fizzled out of reality; the sound dulled and muted beyond recognition.

"Do you know by what means we achieve stability? How so few know about us? The secret of our trade? The lengths we are willing to go?"

_Espionage. Invasive surveillance. Suppression. War crimes. Terrorism._

"I believe the Service does what they need to. At whatever the cost, sir."

Unlike the woman in the corridor, the man kept his face indeterminate at her answer.

"Correct."

The LEDs flashed once more - green, blue, red. The scenery flashed; they were in another place, a sudden adjustment from night to day. The view was one high up in the clouds. Through their breaks, the endless scrawl of desert peppered with buildings in the sand pilfered below. The world curved at such heights. Byleth's dilated eyes squinted at the abrupt transformation, but she raised no hand to cover the sight.

Derdriu. Capital of Leicester.

She noted that his features were still obstructed by unnatural darkness that shrouded his corner of the room.

'Let me be honest with you, Initiate. Precious time is running out. The fuse on a bomb is running shorter by the day. Peace and stability are threatened by forces driven by greed and desire - severe schisms that hold the delicate balance at ransom. Upstart politicians that command the world's superpowers seek power with unchecked ambition. The critical influence of the Church of Seiros is affecting the masses and orchestrating public opinion shifts detrimental to the cause of peace. With such developments, the threat of war hangs over our heads ever closer. The pot will boil over."

The words he spoke, she expected - though they were disheartening. through it all, Byleth kept a straight face, listening.

"Our hard work would become... irrelevant if the trends we have observed continue. We are threatened by our allies, our liaisons, and our partners. Held at bay by our enemies. Our operatives are spread thin. We cannot axe our own, but we can relieve the pressure. There are still areas of influence that fall out of our control. There are groups actively fighting against our interests - the overarching interests of humanity and our survival. This insurrection must be stopped at all costs, and at all costs, we will take steps to achieve that goal. Our mission has and will always be to ensure that the supremacy of this peace is unquestioned. That includes ensuring it survives the most detrimental impulses of our leaders and the population they govern. This is not a job that will be easy, clean, or simple. We act in the best interests of humans. Not those in Adrestria, Faerghus, nor those in the Alliance. _Humans."_

The man's voice snapped at the end, terse and succinct. The tension in the room held steadfast as a lull worked to alleviate it. With a practiced motion, he inclined his head. The LEDs flickered in the pattern of colours. Brief, biting darkness, then bitter cold outside held at bay by a roaring mahogany fireplace. The windows now overlooked the various snow blasted stores and shops, with the occasional modern skyscraper breaking up the monotony of a city stretched as far as the eye could perceive. Searchlights combed the air, striking through the clouds and painting the visage of military occupation.

Fhirdiad. Capital of Faerghus.

"This is the Service's mission statement that so few understand to the core, Initiate. Servitude seeks the best, because only the best can fulfill our mission to the fullest. In pursuit of that goal, we throw away norms and the code of honour. We act where no party is willing to act for the greater good of humanity. Understand that here, you will not be viewed as loyal by your peers, much less your PMC comrades. You will cross a line that you cannot return from. You will not be trusted by the government of your birthplace. Many of your friends may shun you for your actions. Why? Because you will devote yourself to something _greater_ than your nation. Your spiritual beliefs. Because you _believe_ in our mission. You put the Human _above_ your ideals, your desires, your emotions. If this is a price you wish to pay, if this is where you spill your blood, if this where you sacrifice yourself in a cause you believe in… then you've come in the right place, Initiate. The only place."

Byleth found herself silent, simply absorbing everything the man said.

The opening was as clear as day.

Mouth dry, she quickly wet her lips. Contemplating for the final time, she replied.

"With all things considered, I never expected the job to be simple, sir. But concerning what you have said, I cannot have put it better. I will find purpose here if you are willing. And I am aware of what this will mean, and I appreciate you being honest. But all you've shown me is that I've made the right decision," Byleth said, giving the man at the far end of the room a firm nod. "I know what I'm getting into."

The man smiled, and the LEDs flashed one more time. The room returned to dead static.

"Then I have nothing more to say. Welcome to the Intelligence Service, Byleth Eisner. We have much to do." 

**Author's Note:**

> What's good.
> 
> This a lil idea I done had in my head for some time. Unnecessarily dramatic spy-flick adaption of FE3H, which probably... could be executed better.
> 
> Next chapter coming thru.


End file.
